I took a breath, feeling Zoe’s eyes on me. “So here’s the part that might make people mad. I don’t care. Let them be mad. I care about you. I care about my kid. I care about the quiet ones who learn to starve politely so the rest of us don’t have to feel uncomfortable.” My voice grew stronger, fueled by years of suppressed anger. “And I do not care about the opinions of anyone who has never been hungry.”
The room went still. Lucas’s eyes brimmed with tears he refused to let fall.
His voice came out as a raw whisper. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
There it was. The sentence hunger teaches every one of its students.
I leaned forward, my voice low but certain. “You are not a burden. You’re a person. And if anyone wants to argue about whether people deserve to eat,” I said, my voice sharpening into something like a weapon, “they can argue with me. But they’ll be doing it on a full stomach. Because nobody gets to judge hunger from a place of comfort.”
A broken laugh escaped Emma’s lips. Zoe nodded once, her expression fierce.
Mark reached for the serving spoon and pushed the bowl of rice toward Lucas.
“Want some more?” he asked simply.
Lucas’s hands were shaking as he nodded.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Please.”
